Farmers & Mercenaries (21 page)

Clytus did not respond. He waited to hear her side first. Before the ferry touched the dock, Alimia leaped the last pace of water and jogged up the small bank to where Clytus stood, her clothing wet and her boots squelching as she approached him. “Report.”

She paused—Clytus wondered if she feared being blamed for the misdeed or if it was something else entirely. She stole a glance over her shoulder. “I set the scouts out. Nothing for leagues north other than rolling hills that I could see. They should all return by the time we are ready to leave. Trilim made sure they all had halfmeal to travel with; says he will have something for the rest as they arrive on the far side. One of Master Hindar’s scouts, Tylin, took a nasty hit from a horse. He is injured—broke ribs I think—yet he will survive. The Shaper is tending to him now.”

Clytus took in the news and nodded, yet continued to stare at her without responding, letting her shift nervously under his gaze.

“We also lost one wagon and draft horse, sir.” Her voice quivered as she continued. “And a man was lost. Another scout under Master Hindar, Wilim, out of Orlis. He was thrown overboard and we never saw him again. I did not see him go over. If I had, I would not have gone after the wagon. I did manage to cut one of the animals loose, yet when I did, the wagon sank with a quickness I did not expect. Nearly took me to the bottom.”

In his line of work, lives were lost. That was a simple fact of the trade. He always hated to lose lives, however, and was glad that he had never grown accustomed to the feeling the loss brought. Wagons and horses could be replaced.

Well, in this business, so can lives. Yet, men are not a currency I enjoy spending. I never even met the Wilim boy.

Pushing thoughts of the dead to the back of his mind—Wilim would be dealt with later—Clytus steeled himself for what he had to do. “A damn fool thing you did, woman.”

She glared at him, wet hair sticking to her forehead. “The horse went over so fast, I thought—”

“That horse cannot lead, Alimia! You had no hope of salvaging the wagon nor the supplies. Freeing one animal was not worth the risk.” He let all his anger and frustration seep into his tone.

“Sir, I could see both animals struggling under the water. I thought the wagon to be on shallow ground. I could not simply watch them drown!” Bowing her head, she kept her eyes averted as she finished.

“Aye, tis probably so.” Clytus reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulders. “It was a tough situation and you did what you could.” She smiled up at him and he almost regretted giving the encouragement. “Now, daylight is wasting. The Ferrier said it should be safe to continue the crossing. I still expect to put some distance between us and the Artoc before we break camp this eve.”

“Aye, sir.” She immediately turned and barked out orders to get the next group loaded.

A little more work mayhaps, though I do like her spirit.

K
lain sat on the edge of a large, feather-stuffed bed looking around at his new sleeping quarters. Rohann had shown him to the room once Klain finished halfmeal, stating that mayhaps Klain needed to settle in after his journey and rest. He snorted.

As if
riding around in a box on wheels for half the morn is taxing!

Upon entering the room, Rohann had shown Klain the large chest of drawers. “There is plenty of storage here. The Honored One said she would send your items by day’s end. If this is not enough room, I can have trunks brought in.”

Glancing down, Klain took in his pants and the scabbard holding his new sword. “I have little more than I wear now.”

“Well, anything you need, you have only to ask.” With a nod of his head, Rohann withdrew from the room, closing the door and leaving Klain alone.

Now he sat.

Muscles tense, rippling below his spotted fur. He clicked his sharp toeclaws onto the granite tiles of the floor.

If
this is not a cage, why do I feel imprisoned so!

The handle of the door turned. Snapping into a crouch and preparing to launch himself at whatever menace was about to enter, Klain stared into the white eyes of Charver. Rising to his full height, he glared down at the Human boy-cub. “I was just—” Cutting himself off, Klain stood in silence as Charver entered the room and shut the door.

The little boy walked past him and jumped up on the bed, bouncing slightly. “You do not frighten me, you know.”

Taken aback, Klain let out a grunt of a laugh. “Aye? Is that so?”

“Oh, aye! I know you are here to keep me out of trouble. You cannot do that if you eat me.”

Crossing the room, Klain pulled a small, wooden stool closer to the bedside and sat. “Nix, you are probably correct. I may lose my employ if I eat you.” Cocking his head to one side, Klain smiled, baring his fangs. “Besides, Humans do not taste good.”

Eyes wide, the boy whistled. “You have eaten a Human?”

Klain stuck out his tongue and grimaced. “With the way you creatures smell? I do not think I could.”

Waving a hand through the air, the little boy giggled. “I do not smell. Mis’am Frinly forces me to bathe each morn. She says it is proper. I say it is a waste of time.” He hopped off the edge of the bed and slipped his hand inside Klain’s paw. “Wow!” Grasping the paw with both hands, Charver turned it over to examine it. “It is rough. What are these puffy things?”

“The pads protect my paws.” Exposing the bottoms of his hindpaws, he pointed at them. “They are on my hindpaws as well.”

“So you do not have to wear shoes!”

“Nix, my pads are thick. They also speak to me.”

Letting out a snort, the boy looked up into Klain’s eyes. “Feet cannot talk!”

“Ah, yet, mine do. They hear the little patter of steps and let me know that you did not come to my room alone.” Klain pointed to the door.

Looking over his shoulder, Charver wiggled his head. “Nix, my father said I could not come and see you unless I was accompanied by someone.”

“Two someone’s. They are both still outside the door.”

A look of awe swept over Charver. “Your feet told you that?”

“Aye, little boy-cub.”

“Well,” Charver tugged on the paw he still held and Klain allowed himself to be pulled up from the chair. “I thought you would rather be outside than stuck inside on such a nice day.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye.” Letting go of his paw, Charver padded to the door. “Would you like to play with me outside?”

Uncertainty washed over Klain and he glanced around the room.

Putting a tiny fist on his hip, Charver let out a gasp. “If it makes you feel better, I could get hurt outside playing on my own. If you are there, you can protect me. That
is
your job you know?”

“Very well.” Klain headed for the door, then paused. Returning to the bed, he scooped up his sword in its scabbard and strapped it around his waist. Turing back, he noticed the look of mirth upon the boy-child’s face. “In case you need protecting!” Even though he spat out the words in a deep growl, the boy-cub giggled.

The two stepped into the hall and Klain saw that two Humans flanked the door. They smelled of fear, though not the pungent odor they had had upon his arrival. Following Charver’s example, Klain walked between them without acknowledging their presence. The two Humans fell in behind them as they walked the halls that led to the back of the villa in silence.

They left the building through the same double doors that led out onto the patio where they ate halfmeal. Threading their way through the wall of plants that enclosed the area, Klain was amazed to see how open the space beyond was. A large dirt area covered the immediate ground, flanked by a stable and a few other low-roofed buildings. Past this, open fields stretched off as far as Klain could see, broken only by the occasional copse of trees. A slight warm breeze ruffled the hair of his mane, bringing with it the smell of life. Clean and fresh, the smells that invaded his nostrils invigorated him. He picked out wheat, barley, and a host of other grain smells. Pine and birch, flowers of many flavors…

And the stench of Human sweat.

The clang of metal on metal rang out in the early morn air. Grabbing Klain’s paw, Charver dragged him toward one of the buildings. “The men are practicing. Let us go and watch!”

Followed by their two guards, they rounded what looked like a workshop—tools and anvils littered the area inside a large open door—to find a small circle of Humans. Most of the men had stripped their shirts and stood watching two others sparing in the center.

The two men—sweat running off in driblets, and the blunted edges of their practice swords marred and nicked from use—attacked each other with fervor.

The larger of the two men, an older Human with a bald head, feigned a low stroke that became a high attack. The blow would have landed if he had not stopped it short. “Keep that guard up, Narn, or I will put a lump on that fowl looking head of yours!” The two guards who followed Klain and the boy laughed aloud and went to join the circle of men. “Come on then, are you going to try and hit me with that stick or just stand there and wet yourself?”

The smaller man, Narn, lowered his blade to the ground and the older one pointed his sword at him. “You call yourself a bodyguard, yet—” A loud clang resounded as Narn batted the other’s sword away and lunged in for an attack, jabbing violently. Narn was caught off guard as the older man let his practice blade fly from his hand, sidestepped, and looped his free arm over and around Narn’s sword arm. A loud snap sounded when the older man spun, forcing the younger man’s arm to bend back on itself. The practice sword fell from his numb fingers and Narn joined it on the ground, howling in pain and clutching his broken arm.

The older man spat upon him. Looking up, he pointed to one of the spectators. “Poltin! You and Brin take this pathetic heap of dung into town and have a Shaper see to his arm.” Bending down, the old fighter scooped up his dropped practice blade from the dirt. “Lith, you are up!”

Poltin and Brin shuffled forward and, not too gently, plucked the still whimpering Narn from the ground. Half helping—half dragging the man, they headed for the villa. A burly, well-tanned Human with short-cropped black hair stepped forward and retrieved the discarded practice sword from the ground where Narn had lost it. He gave a salute to the older man, then dropped into an attack stance.

Just then, the older man caught sight of Klain standing next to the workshop and raised a hand for the other to hold. “Well, well, if it is not our famed Kith! I wondered when you would crawl out of hiding and take a sniff around.” The few laughs that joined the older man’s jib came out strained at best. Klain could smell the fear level rise even over the stench of their sweat.

“He did not come out of hiding. He came out to play with me!” The laughing increased and Klain did not feel his situation had improved from Charver’s aid.

Kneeling down, he put a paw on the boy’s shoulder. “Mayhaps we could find somewhere less crowded?”

“Nix, I want to watch the men practice. Hey!” His eyes lit up. “Mayhaps you could spar with them?”

“Oh, that is a wonderful idea!” The older man’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “How about it, Kith? A little exercise to get the blood pumping?”

Holding his tongue, Klain stood and headed back toward the villa.

“Uh oh! It looks as if our kitty has decided to go back inside!” The rest of the men laughed louder. “Come on, kitty, kitty. We just want to see if the stories we heard of your skill were true, or are they tall tales like so much that goes on inside the Coliseum!”

Klain felt the small vibrations of the boy-cub running up behind him. Charver grabbed his paw just as Klain rounded the corner of the building. “Where are you going?”

At the boy’s touch, Klain stopped yet did not look down. “This is not wise. I am not here to fight for anyone’s amusement!”

Whipping around to face Klain, the boy stood defiantly. “Nix! You are supposed to protect me. How are you going to do that if you run from a fight?”

A rumbled growl rattled Klain’s chest and he glanced down to glare into Charver’s eyes. “These are your father’s men.” Spitting the words out in a whisper, he did not even part his fangs. “I will run from nothing that is a danger to you.”

“You are a coward!” Charver stomped his feet onto the dusty ground, receiving a loud round of laughter from the men standing in witness.

The Human who won the fight with Narn stepped forward. “Go on, I will not spar with some
thing
that is frightened of its own shadow.”

Blood trickled from Klain’s paws and splattered to the ground from his sharp claws digging into them.

“An angry fighter is a dead fighter.” Master Flayt, my old trainer, your words still ring true. Still, I hope your bones are rotting in the ground!

Forcing himself to relax, Klain walked back to the men amidst a chorus of heckles. “I misunderstood. If it is only sparing you are looking for, I could use some exercise this day.”

A wicked grin slid over the old man’s mouth. “Good, I was hoping you would say that.” He flicked his head at one of the men who jogged to the workshop. Returning with two thick cowhide mittens, the man tossed them to Klain.

Looking down at them in his paws, Klain snarled. “What are these?”

Still smiling his wicked smile, the first man chuckled. “Well, we would not want any
accidents
to happen, now would we?”

“I will not even be able to hold my sword wearing these!” Flinging the gloves into the dirt, Klain crossed his arms defiantly.

Tisking, the Human bent down and retrieved the mittens. “Well, any excuse, huh? Do not hide behind gloves if you will not face me, beast!”

The dam holding back his anger burst. Rage boiled up inside Klain. Without word, he thrust out his paws to the man and held them there. Taking a step closer, the Human pushed first one, then the next glove over his paws, tying each securely in place with leather thongs. The man then handed Klain one of the blunt practice swords. Grasping the hilt, the bulky leather gloves bending only reluctantly, Klain took a practice stroke. The sword slid from his grip and slammed onto the ground, kicking up dirt. A chorus of laughter resonated through the area as one of the men bent down to get the weapon. Taking the sword once again, Klain forced his claws to extend as far as they could in their cramped prisons, and griped the sword with all his strength.

If
I must hold my grip this tightly, I will not have long before my paw cramps.

Again, he gave a practice stroke, this time retaining control of the sword.

“You ready then, beast?”

Facing the Human, Klain crouched into the fighting pose he had learned to use when wielding a sword without a shield. The two circled each other. Too late, the overpowering odor of Human alerted Klain that someone had stepped close behind him. Stars filled his vision and pain lanced through the back of his skull. Slamming to the ground, a multitude of blows assaulted him from all directions. Scrambling, working on instinct alone, he pulled his paws under his body. Digging his hindclaws into the dirt, he launched himself forward and slammed into whoever stood in front of him, continuing through. Landing once more on the ground, he tucked into a tight roll, twisted his body, and came up standing on his hindpaws. On shaky legs, he took in the blurry scene before him.

Half a dozen Humans rushed him, blunt practice swords at the ready. Sidestepping the first to reach him, Klain used the man’s momentum to fling him beyond and to the ground. A second stopped short and swung his weapon in a vicious downward attack. Pouncing back, the sword tip narrowly missed Klain’s face and instead struck the ground, throwing the man off balance. Whipping his right paw in a wide arc, Klain caught the man in the neck and was disappointed not to see blood flinging into the air.

Damnable gloves!

Yet the force of the blow spun the man around and drove him into the dirt. Before Klain could recover from this attack, a third man, this one wielding a wooden stick, cracked it across Klain’s outer thigh. Howling in pain and rage, he went down on that knee.